Better When I'm Dancing
by thatwritermadeofpotatoes
Summary: Alex has an insane homework assignment, so John helps him take a break. Song!fic, there will be dancing;) Lams, pure fluff:D Rated T for cursing. Modern AU.


**A/N: Just a super small one shot that I thought of when listening to Meghan Trainor's "Better When I'm Dancing":) I'm awful at naming things so I totally stole the title for my title(hehe) Hope you enjoy!**

"I bet you feel better when you're dancing."

John whispered in my ear, pulling my attention from the paper I'm working on.

"I have to finish this, John." I murmured, rubbing at my droopy eyes. I've been working for nine straight hours, all because my professor assigned last minute homework. Now, when I say last minute, I mean he assigned it literally the day before the next class. He also made the deadline, gasp, you guessed it; tomorrows class.

I'm so screwed.

I've been refueling with coffee for about eleven hours now, switching from different class work. I started with math (ugh), and was doing kind of okay before I received the e-mail containing the homework from hell.

A fifteen-page essay on why Shakespeare wrote "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

What. The. Fuck.

I don't know, because he was high as hell? Because he had nightmares about weird goblin-troll hybrids? Because the guy had a super strange obsession with people having troubled relationships?

"I'm so tired." I muttered, leaning back in my swivel chair. I'd only written six pages, and most of it is complete and utter bull. Interlocking my fingers behind my head, I sighed and glanced over at John. He raised his eyebrows at me, shooting up off the edge of my bed. He strode the five feet between us, and grabbed my hands. Pulling me out of my chair, he grinned.

"Don't think about it, just move your body." He spoke, his grin getting wider with every word. He swayed his hips, keeping a firm grip on my hands. He closed his eyes, and began humming to some song. I smiled, slightly moving my hips like he was.

"Mmm, oh-ey-oh," He sang. "Don't you know we can do this together?"

I broadly smiled at his singing, which was surprisingly good. He usually sang when we got together with the guys at the bar, but not this well.

"Feel the rhythm getting louder," He continued in his sing-song tone. "Show the world what you can do… prove to them you got the moves, hey!"

He started to swing us around, stepping in tune to the lyrics coming from his mouth. I followed, bobbing my shoulders as we turned in a sloppy circle.

"La-la-la, ba-ba-da," He scatted, his eyes twinkling as we danced. "I don't know about you but I feel better when I'm dancing, yeah, yeah."

"John!" I shouted with a laugh, as he twirled me. He stopped me when I was facing away from him, and wrapped his arms around my middle. "What are you doing?"

I chuckled at his response, peppered kisses on my neck. We were still moving, swaying together, though slower than before.

"Mm, I wanted to cheer you up." He breathed, his warm breath heating my skin. "You haven't smiled in, like, four hours. That's too long."

I smiled, closing my eyes and leaned into his chest. "You're right, that's way too long. You know what else I haven't done in, like, four hours?"

He moved his arms to hold mine, and spun me around so we were facing each other. His eyebrows were raised, and a smile spread on both of our faces as he nodded. He cupped my face and tilted his head closer, his eyes darkening.

I leaned my head back to meet his lips.

After a few moments of pure bliss, I remembered what I was in the middle of. "Oh, my god, my paper is due tomorrow and I still have to churn out nine more pages!"

John laughed into my mouth, giving me one last peck before pulling back.

"Of course, of course, you need to write to survive." He joked, before steering me backwards and into my chair. He planted a chaste kiss on my cheek, then went back to his spot on my bed.

"I'll be here, though." He reminded, batting his eyelashes. "You know, if you want to take a break and do… other things."

He winked, and picked up his forgotten magazine.

Three hours, and five mugs of coffee later, I had finished my paper. As well as all my other homework, which meant one thing.

"John?" He looked at me from behind his Men's Health issue. "I'm ready for that break."


End file.
